


Thanks, That Was Fun

by TheChichiSlaughterHouse



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Arson, Break Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-05
Updated: 2009-02-05
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChichiSlaughterHouse/pseuds/TheChichiSlaughterHouse
Summary: Sanji thinks back on what's gone on in their relationship; how it started, how it ended. ZoroxSanji. Written to the song of the same name. 'M' rating to be on the safe side.





	Thanks, That Was Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, That Was Fun
> 
> By The Chichi Slaughter House
> 
> Warnings: Sanji POV, ZoroxSanji, yaoi, angst, sexual content; you know, the usual.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own One Piece, nor do I own BareNaked Ladies. I just love both of them, haha.
> 
> Rating: R (to be on the safe side)
> 
> Inspired heavily by the song with the same name. It’s an awesome song, so you should listen while you read! (That’s how I wrote this anyway.)

As I sit in the middle of the bay watching Zoro’s shirts burn on the ground, I bury my face in my hands. The satisfaction I had hoped to gain from burning his idiotic shit is not here, and all I feel is jaded and deflated by my own actions. Shit, I’m such an asshole. What the fuck was burning his shirts going to do anyway? It’s just going to start another goddamned argument, yet I couldn’t stop myself from hauling the items out the second everyone else left the ship. What the fuck am I going to do now?

It’s not like this island will be selling the stupid things he wears! They looked damned old, too. Probably irreplaceable. Shit. And with the way the black smoke is twisting up into the sky like that, he will probably think something bad’s happened to the ship. Or someone else will. And then they’ll fucking find me, slumped next to a pile of burnt cotton shirts with a cigarette in my hand and know exactly what’s happened.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I won’t be surprised if everyone treats me like crap after this, or even if he tries to kill me. Hell, if he does try I won’t even fight back. I’m so goddamned desperate for his attention nowadays that even that would be enough to make me happy. Running my hands through my hair, I recall vividly what started this all off, and hate myself more and more for the burning pile in front of me. He didn’t deserve this at all…

When I had realised that Nami-san was in love with the brute of a swordsman we had on board, it had come as a real shock. What good was there in that muscleheaded marimo who didn’t even notice when a lady had changed her clothes, let alone her feelings? Of course, I couldn’t leave it alone, and had gone straight to the green-haired idiot to try and see first-hand what could possibly be attractive in him. And that had lead to something I hadn’t been expecting; when the moron had tackled me to the floor and kissed me. The conversation we had soon after is one I will never forget: 

_“Sure, we can fuck. Just don’t go falling in love with me, idiot.”_

_“Che, same goes for you, asshole. Don’t you dare regret it later, either!”_

It didn’t work out that way, of course. After a few weeks of fumbling around in the dark with Zoro, the others had started to notice changes in the way I was acting, asking me if something good had happened recently. Obviously I had answered that nothing had changed at all and laughed off their accusations, even when Robin-chan had hit it on the mark. The second the last word had left her lips, I was denying it and calling the idiot every name under the sun to prove my hatred for him, though I knew none of them believed it.

Things only got worse after that.

Unhappy from the fact everyone else seemed to know, I started treating Zoro like dirt. Both when others were around and when we were alone, causing him to feel pissed off with me a lot. Still, I had started to have feelings for him, and even when I was cursing at him and pushing him away rudely, all I wanted was for him to pull me in close. Of course, due to his thick-headedness, he didn’t click on to that in the slightest, and soon became bored of me.

I only wish I could blame him for the whole thing. But I can’t, because I know so painfully that it was all my fault. When the others asked me about it, I didn’t have to start treating him so badly, yet I just couldn’t help myself. I suppose I reacted on instinct. Hell, those seven months we spent were probably the happiest I have been so far in my life, even the one where I started acting differently. I’m surprised he even put up with my shit for an entire month. No matter how I felt about someone, I don’t think I could have done the same thing.

Because of that admiration, I can’t even bring myself to hate him. Even though he was the one to break it off, I just can’t turn around and point the finger at him.

There are so many memories of this relationship that I know I’ll never forget. Happy ones, sad ones…there are so many I remember. Too many. Seven short months have given me more memories than the rest of my fucking life, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

I remember the nights we just lay there, with him tracing words onto my back with his finger that he thought I couldn’t read. Things like ‘shitty cook’, ‘nice ass’ and ‘blondie’. I never told him I could read it because I never wanted him to stop. I asked occasionally what the hell he was doing, and he was never honest with me about it, saying he was just trying to piss me off whilst he wrote ‘I love you’ onto my skin.

But that doesn’t happen any more.

The uncomfortable look on his face when he told me he wanted to stop fucking is burnt into my memory so fiercely that every time I close my damn eyes all I can see is him. All his hurt and insecurities were on the surface, just for those few moments, and I could tell it wasn’t just a change of his mind on a whim. He’d been thinking about it for a while, and I suppose that hurts. He never once came to me and was upfront about what was annoying him. He just said ‘thanks, it was fun’, and all I said in return was ‘goodbye’.

Maybe he thought that I was the one who grew bored of him. Maybe that’s why he spent time getting bored of me before throwing me aside. Maybe he never loved me at all; maybe the words he wrote were genuinely to piss me off, no matter how complimentary. He probably knew I could read them.

Shit, I’m still so madly in love with him that it’s pissing me off.

You’d think after two months the stupid feelings would have faded by now. But they haven’t, and the fact he hasn’t found anyone else just makes me feel hopeful he’ll come back. There’s a part of me that really really wants that to be true, but the rest of me knows it just isn’t going to happen. He isn’t the type to go back on anything he’s said; that stuff with Usopp back on Water 7 said that clearly enough.

I don’t know why I’m so damn hopeful for it. No matter what I think, it just isn’t going to happen. I can’t believe I’ve become this weak to him. It just doesn’t make sense. My entire life, I’ve swooned madly over women, so the fact that a man can do this to me is just…I can’t get over it. If you’d asked me a year ago if this would ever happen, I’d gladly have stuffed my foot so far down your throat it came out your arse whilst asking you what the fuck you were on. But now…

Hell, it’s too late!

If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have been so much more honest. With myself, _and_ with the others. Even to Zoro. But that’s what hindsight has given me, I guess. Would’ve been a hell of a lot better if I could see into the future. Or even if I just wasn’t so fucking stupid.

The worst part is seeing him every damn day. It feels so awkward and I can barely stand it. Even our usual bickering has completely slowed down, so much so I wonder if that was our way of flirting. Of course we wouldn’t be flirting after something like this. Because that would just be ridiculous. But it’s really starting to take its toll on me; after so long without having an outlet to vent my frustrations – sexual or violent – I just feel agitated all the time. I keep picking on him every time he comes near me but he just doesn’t take the bait, and I fucking hate that. He’s fucking ignoring me.

Time and time again I’ve thought of going back to him and begging him for a second chance. On my knees, if need be. But I don’t think I’ll be able to do it without saying some really stupid pathetic things, and I already know that he would just hate me if I did something like that. And that is only if he doesn’t hate me already. It’s driving me mad, because I had never predicted this. Because of the way we started it and the strangely affectionate things he was doing, I would have thought that when I ended it – I wouldn’t have kept it up forever – that he would be the one clinging to my ankle and begging me to stay with him. And yet here I am, barely stopping myself from doing it instead.

I fell so far it’s almost painful to think about. After a few days I had already forgotten my actual objective, and a few weeks and it was so comfortable it had felt like we had always been together like this. Just so stupid. I didn’t even realise that what I was doing was cruel to Nami-san, which I should have done immediately. I had only gone to him to see whether the appeal was something I could mimic for her, and inadvertently had ended up taking him from her. Well, sort of, anyway. Whilst we were fucking it was unlikely she would get a look in, as I didn’t exactly ask him for anything but release. There were no romantic actions he had to do first, and he didn’t even have to think about my feelings, because if he put his hands on me, I was pretty damn ready to go. And the same went for him.

I don’t know if Nami-san is that type of lady, but I imagine she wouldn’t have been up for it at all the stupid times he had tried to get in my pants. Sometimes he would wake me up at two in the morning and drag me out to the crow’s nest without a word, and others he would lightly touch my back when I was trying to cook. He had learnt after the first few times that when I was cooking it was practically a no, and had touched a little to show his interest before waiting for me to finish up. And I always did.

I don’t think she would have appreciated either of those things happening.

God knows even I struggled with his appetite at times, but it wasn’t like he didn’t struggle with mine occasionally either. Nami-san would probably have lost her temper with him quickly. At least, I assume so.

I realise I’ve been staring at my feet for fucking forever when I hear the idiot’s voice shouting in the distance. Ah shit, have marines come already? Why can’t these guys just keep a low profile for once? Morons. I bet it was all Luffy’s fault, like usual. Getting to my feet I drop my cigarette butt on the floor and stamp on it just to extinguish any leftover flames, though the action is useless as the fire in front of me is far worse.

As I straighten, I see the swordsman bound onto the scene, his eyes wide as he looks between the flames and myself, putting two and two together slowly as I just stare blankly at him. The worry and shock dissolves from his face an instant later, and before I know it, he is in my face, shouting at me. I’m not even paying any attention to what he’s saying, too mesmerised by his face being so close to focus on anything else.

“You shitty cook-bastard!” Ah, that one got through. Lazily smirking, I feel the urge to just get another cigarette and light it on the flames. Great, even now I want to antagonise him, despite the fact I doubt he could get angrier than this. His hands grab my shoulders as he starts to shake me, and damn if I don’t enjoy the touch. I close my eyes and just sigh as he yells, not even paying attention to the words, just the sound of his voice. Even angry, it sends chills through me.

It takes me a few moments to realise he’s shoved me onto the floor when I feel the ground hit my ass. Looking up, I see him grab his stuff and fling it into the ocean, an entirely unimpressed look on his face. And damn rightly, too. I’d be pissed off if some idiot set my clothes on fire too. I feel awkward as I watch him take every piece and dunk them into the water, not a single item salvageable. I want to get up and help out, but I have the strange feeling he doesn’t want me to move from this spot so I don’t. If he wanted my help, he’d have asked me.

When the last item is in the sea and the fire has been extinguished, he turns to me, completely serious. There isn’t a trace of amusement in his face at all, and that worries me a little as he steps towards me. There’s no cheerfulness, just this sense of anger and disappointment that burns me far more than it should. I don’t want to look yet I can’t look away; the fact that he’s stopped ignoring me meaning that I can finally look into his green eyes. What I see staring back at me is nothing like the times when he would just hold me, but I am still entranced by it. But not so much so that I realise he is just _staring_ and not saying a word. Minutes pass and the unbearable silence grates on my nerves. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything? There must be something he wants to say!

“What is it, asshole?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to fucking apologise!” He shouts, startling me. As my eyes widen, he just carries on, looking more frustrated than I’ve ever seen him, and it’s my fault. “The others kept coming to me asking me to fix what I’d done to you, but I was just waiting! Every fucking day, waiting for you to walk up to me and say you were goddamned sorry for acting like such a dick!” I shift my gaze to his feet so I don’t have to look at him, but he won’t allow it, just stepping closer and grabbing my chin as he kneels next to me on the cooling ground. “Every day, cook. I ignored your goddamn bedroom eyes and taunts as best as I fucking could, only to have Nami or Luffy bitch at me as if it was all my fault!” As he grips my chin tighter, I wince. “And now you fucking burn my clothes! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Though I earlier thought I wouldn’t fight back, I find my foot grinding hard against the side of his head as I try to push him off me. The grip on my face fucking hurts, and if he’d just let it up a bit I wouldn’t care. It feels like he’s trying to crush my jaw in his hand, and I don’t put it past him to be able to, let alone to want to.

His other hand reaches up and grabs my ankle tightly as well, and I almost yelp in pain as he forcefully moves it away. He looks so fucking angry now that I don’t know what to do or say, just that I’m in a lot of pain. Shit, even without his swords he’s a formidable opponent, and he proves it by pushing my leg up to my chest while he straddles the other. Bastard knows the majority of my strength is in my goddamn legs, and that I don’t want to fight with my hands, and he fucking uses it to his advantage. I almost wish he wasn’t nakama now; he wouldn’t have known my weaknesses so easily and I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess to start with!

“Let _go_ of me, seaweed head!” I hiss, pulling at his wrist with a hand. It fucking _hurts_. So much so that I know it’s going to leave huge bruises on my face when he eventually does let go. He lets go of my chin after a moment then moves to grab my hair, yanking my face closer as his eyes silently demand an explanation. The grip in my hair is firm, and I cannot help but recall the times we got rough in the galley, or the crow’s nest, gritting my teeth to try and distract myself from the tears that want to fall down my cheeks. I’m not going to fucking cry in front of him. Not after doing that. Closing my eyes, I jerk my head to the side, not wanting him to look at me, but it has the opposite effect as he pulls me back.

“The fuck you crying for?” The tone of voice is a bit softer this time, and I force my eyes to open so I can see his face. He’s still angry, but he looks more concerned than before and I wonder what the hell I can even say to him now. ‘I burnt your stuff because I thought it would stop me feeling like shit’? I don’t think that would work somehow, especially since it didn’t help me at all. Unless making me feel like a complete jerk is helpful. Which it probably is, because the way Zoro’s acting it’s like he wants me to feel like shit –– and I don’t blame him for it at all. “Oi, say something.”

“Like what?” My voice is hoarse and I know it, watching his eyes widen a little as it hits him how upset I am over the whole thing. It’s so goddamned stupid. I knew I was going to regret it the second I lit that match – and did – yet I did it anyway out of spite, and I’m not sure whether I regret it now or not. Sure, my face hurts and so does my ankle, but he’s fucking talking to me, and it somehow feels like that’s enough. “You want me to apologise? It won’t fix anything…won’t get your stupid shirts back.” The bitterness in my voice is almost tangible as he stares at me a moment, seeming taken aback. Dammit, he must have been expecting me to beg for my life or some such shit.

“Fuck the shirts, asshole!” The sudden aggression startles me, and I feel my eyes go wide as he grabs my shoulders again. “I don’t care about the fucking shirts that much; I asked what the fuck was wrong with _you_!” I just blink and stare at him as the information sinks in, and suddenly start to feel worse as I see how damn worried he is. Knowing he cares about _me_ is a little hard to cope with after these past two months and I bow my head, trying not to cry for real. Luckily he has tact and just pulls me into a hug, pulling me up against him tightly. “You’re so stupid.” He grumbles into my hair, and I have to say that I agree with him.

“Shut up.” I choke back, pressing my face into his shoulder as far as I can get it. He hasn’t even heard my reasons, but I don’t really think he needs to anymore, not with the way he’s clinging at me. I wouldn’t even know where to start anyway, and because he’s made it very clear that it’s been my fault from the beginning – as if I didn’t know already – I don’t think that there is anything I could say anyway. So I just grab at his back in response and stay quiet. I don’t even think I need to apologise any more – though I do want to – because of how comfortable and normal this feels. Despite the really warm floor and the nagging reality he has nothing to wear but the clothes on his back now. The clothes floating next to the ship aren’t exactly going to go away either. As his large hand runs through my hair, I shiver and press closer. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” Pulling back, Zoro looks me in the eye. Expectantly, like he wants me to say something else. But I don’t know what else there is to say. His hand moves to stroke up my thigh and I shiver, feeling oddly shy. Hell, we’re in the middle of the fucking port and there are probably people watching right now, but I just don’t want to push him away. In fact, all I want to do is pull him closer, so I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me, sighing against his neck. He nuzzles my neck in response, then moves to trail his tongue around the edge of my ear, and I bite my lip. “Don’t you have something else to say?”

“The ship’s empty.” I hear him snort above me and can’t help but be amused, especially as he starts stroking up and down my back slowly.

“Yes it is.” He replies, nipping my earlobe gently. “What about it?” At this, I roll my eyes. He damn well knows what I’m implying, but the bastard wants the satisfaction of getting to hear me say it. Well, fine. Just this once I will let him have his way.

“I think we should board it,” I pause to lick down his cheek. “Go to the nearest room, and…” Leaning up, I tug on one of his earrings lightly, making sure to press my body up to his. “…Make full use of the privacy.” Hearing him sigh against my ear, I lift my knee and rub it against his crotch slowly. “Of course, if you don’t want to, I could just-”

“Shut up dart-brow.” He growls, yanking my body back against his. “I _hear_ you.”

The next thing I know, I’m bundled in his arms and being dragged into the ship faster than I could burst into laughter, my back hitting a bunk as he starts to strip off. Dammit, he seems so damn eager it’s infectious, and I start to undo the buttons on my shirt as quickly as I can. It isn’t long before we’re fumbling out of our pants too, and he leans down to give me a rough kiss.

It’s been two damn months since the last time. He’d better not be rusty.


End file.
